the pouty princess returns
I am in a bad mood, people. Watch out.
I just want to get up in the morning and have a breakfast taco. I can’t seem to do that. Sure, I could go out and buy the ingredients necessary for a breakfast taco and then make the thing myself, but that’s not really the same, is it? I want the bag of breakfast tacos that my last job had in the break room. I miss those breakfast tacos so much. So much.
I just want instant breakfast tacos. And Magical Coffee that appears next to my computer in the morning. Honestly, I’d get an awful lot more done every day if I didn’t have to walk a couple of miles to get my caffeine fix. Like, today, I’ve got a few things I have to do. Things that are going to take hours. And I’m seeing my friends perform tonight. I don’t have time to fool around with coffee and food. And what will happen is I’ll keep working, hand Ray a five when he finally decides he needs coffee, and the next thing I know, I’ll have forgotten to eat all day. This keeps happening.
Not that the price of food in LA makes you want to eat, anyway.
But here I am, forgetting to eat, not wanting to eat anyway, and it makes me wake up with these ridiculous cravings. Today is breakfast tacos. I do believe the last four days I had been craving a tuna melt. And since I finally got one yesterday (Ray and I were planning on just getting coffee. I don’t know how we ended up in Mel’s Diner instead), now the craving has changed into a desire for something harder to get.
Because I make my own life difficult. No one else makes my life difficult. I make it difficult.
Eric just wrote and suggested I make my own breakfast tacos.
It’s a craving. It’s illogical. It waits for no shopping list. It wants what it wants when it wants it and you can’t think of things like food preparation or delivery times. You just need the food in front of your face immediately.
It’s exhausting, explaining these things to the boys.
Taylor understands impulse food. He does it every day. Whatever it is I’m eating, that’s what he needs to eat immediately, and he’ll stop at nothing to get it. He’ll knock over cases of chinese food, step on bagels, lick lettuce– he doesn’t care. The food must be eaten and must be eaten now.
This is ridiculous. I need to go find a damn breakfast taco so I can get my day started.
Damn you, LA. Damn you for making everything so damn far away.
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